With Donald Trump, Republicans, and right-wing media denigrating the House committee investigating the January 6 insurrectionist riot, the Washington Post provided a public service this weekend with a blockbuster three-part series examining the Trump-incited attack on the Capitol. This lengthy account, full of new and troubling details, shows there’s still much to learn about this horrific day—plenty to justify a subpoena-powered probe.

A few of the Post revelations:

• House Speaker Nancy Pelosi and Senate Majority Leader Chuck Schumer, hiding in a secured location during the assault, phoned acting Attorney General Jeffrey Rosen and beseeched him to contact President Donald Trump and tell him to call off the marauders. Rosen thought the suggestion was impractical and was noncommittal.

• While Vice President Mike Pence was being held in a protected subterranean area of the Capitol, John Eastman, the Trump adviser who wrote the now-infamous coup memo, emailed a Pence aide and blamed the vice president for causing the violence by refusing to block the certification of Joe Biden’s victory. After order was restored, Eastman pressed Pence not to certify the results—arguing that the allotted time for the certification process had expired. That is, Eastman wanted to exploit the delay caused by the riot.

• At one point during the melee, Rep. Liz Cheney (R-Wyo.) encountered Rep. Jim Jordan (R-Ohio) and told her, “We need to get the ladies away from the aisle. Let me help you.” Cheney replied, “Get away from me. You f---ing did this.”

Not surprising, worst of all, is Trump. The Post reports he was disengaged as his supporters violently stormed Congress. He watched the terror on television and did nothing. He took few calls and spoke to few aides, insisting that he was not to blame and that his supporters would never be so violent. He essentially abandoned his post as commander in chief and sworn protector of the Constitution. And there’s more on Trump’s phone call with House Minority Leader Kevin McCarthy during the attack. Trump claimed to McCarthy that the rioters were antifa members—that was false—but he also said of the terrorists in the Capitol, “I see people who are more upset about the election than you are. They like Trump more than you do.” So not antifa? Yet when McCarthy told Trump to “call these people off,” Trump said, “They’re not my people.” How confused and irrational was Trump during this moment of crisis? The American public deserves an answer.

When I asked a House Democrat if the Post stories provide more material for the investigation, the legislator responded, “There’s already too much.”

Yet there’s one angle of the January 6 tale that has not received sufficient attention: the role of the Christian right in the attack. Several sharp-eyed commentators have emphasized the involvement of Christian nationalists in the Trump attack. The day of the assault, Right Wing Watch published an article noting that during a rally the previous day Trump supporters “delivered Christian nationalist messages and veiled threats of violence if Congress failed to reject Biden electors.” Christian nationalism is a term that describes a Christian fundamentalism that overlaps with white supremacy and authoritarianism and that calls for viewing the United States as distinctively a Christian entity. And for some in these quarters, Trump is a savior. Literally. Right Wing Watch reported, “Many speakers spoke of Trump in religious terms, a reflection of claims by many religious-right leaders that Trump was anointed by God to lead the country. ‘We serve a mighty, powerful God,’ said Christie Hutcherson of Women Fighting for America. ‘He wants everybody to know it’s by His might, by His hand, that Donald J. Trump will serve four more years.’” At that rally, Brian Gibson, a Kentucky-based preacher, declared, “This is a Christian nation,” and he exclaimed, “The church of the Lord Jesus Christ started America…We’re going to take our nation back!”

The day after the assault, the Religion News Service reported on the presence of Christian messaging—crosses, “Jesus Saves” signs, and “Jesus 2020” flags that copied the design of the Trump flags—and noted the “juxtaposition of Christian and white supremacist symbols.” And veteran (and wise) political journalist Thomas Edsall observed in the New York Times, on January 28, “It’s impossible to understand the Jan. 6 assault on the Capitol without addressing the movement that has come to be known as Christian nationalism.”

About a week later, Peter Montgomery, a researcher for Right Wing Watch, published an article in the American Prospect detailing how “right-wing pastors, religious-right leaders and activists, and conservative Christian media aggressively promoted then-President Donald Trump’s false claims that he won the 2020 presidential election in a landslide and that it was being stolen from him and his supporters.” Montgomery pointed out:

These [Christian] leaders and media outlets inflated the stakes of Trump’s re-election campaign and post-election efforts to “stop the steal” by portraying them as part of a spiritual war between good and evil. In their telling, Trump was the divinely anointed leader of the forces of light, and his opponents were agents of Satan bent on crushing religious freedom and destroying the American republic. Prayer and calls for spiritual warfare were blended with invocations of “1776.”

The Post series notes that the crowd that assaulted the Capitol was overwhelmingly white and that the mob shouted the n-word at Capitol Hill officer Harry Dunn, illustrating that a portion of Trump’s Brownshirts were propelled by racism. But there’s nary a mention of the Christian nationalism that also fueled the insurrection. This is not a knock on the newspaper’s impressive project. It is a reminder that the involvement of Christian right in this attack on American democracy has been underplayed or ignored in much of the 1/6 coverage—and the same can be said of the continuing threat of Christian nationalism.

Got any thoughts on this item? Or anything else? Or a tip or lead? Email me at thisland@motherjones.com.

Thoughts and Prayers for COP26

This week, leaders from around the world are gathering in Glasgow to deal with perhaps the greatest collective failure of the human species: climate change. It seems that every day there is more evidence of the immense damage being done to the planet’s ecosystem by the fossil fuels economy—and more indicators that not nearly enough is being done to avert the profound and deadly consequences of an overheating atmosphere. This news is discouraging, particularly for those who have devoted years of their lives to understanding and redressing climate change. For decades now, they have been warning and encouraging action, constantly declaring that there is no time to waste, as time continues to be wasted. Thousands of scientists, policymakers, and advocates have each year attended the United Nations’ annual climate change conference, a.k.a. the COP. That’s an abbreviation for Conference of the Parties, which refers to the countries that signed the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change—a treaty that came into force in 1994. This week’s assembly is COP26, as in 26 years. That means for two and a half decades this global community has been coming together to try to find solutions, and the world, after all this time, remains far from a sustainable position.

Can you imagine the frustration for those toiling on this issue? Two years ago, I did a series of interviews with climate scientists who were having trouble coping with the psychological burdens of their work and shared their stories in an article. Here’s what we call the nut graf:

It’s hardly surprising that researchers who spend their lives exploring the dire effects of climate change might experience emotional consequences from their work. Yet [they]…have begun publicly discussing the psychological impact of contending with data pointing to a looming catastrophe, dealing with denialism and attacks on science, and observing government inaction in the face of climate change. “Scientists are talking about an intense mix of emotions right now,” says Christine Arena, executive producer of the docuseries Let Science Speak, which featured climate researchers speaking out against efforts to silence or ignore science. “There’s deep grief and anxiety for what’s being lost, followed by rage at continued political inaction, and finally hope that we can indeed solve this challenge. There are definitely tears and trembling voices. They know this deep truth: They are on the front lines of contending with the fear, anger, and perhaps even panic the rest of us will have to deal with.”

We’ve not made enough progress since then to comfort these people and everyone else flocking to Glasgow to help save the world as we know it. We owe these people our appreciation and sympathy.

Rock ’n’ Roll Flashback: Bob Dylan, Jesus, and Me

It was spring of 1980, I had two tickets for Bob Dylan’s show at the Ocean State Theatre in Providence, Rhode Island, and none of my friends wanted to go. The previous year, Dylan had released Slow Train Coming, an album with fierce songs reflecting his recent conversion to born-again Christianity. This switch for Dylan alienated many fans. Intolerant fundamentalism from the guy who told a generation, “Don’t follow leaders”? Some Jewish Dylan buffs, no doubt, felt jilted now that Bobby Zimmerman was preaching for J.C. We had lost one. But the music on Slow Train Coming was superb, in part because Dylan had recruited Mark Knopfler of Dire Straits to join the sessions. And for me, Dylan remained an intriguing Shakespearean figure—a seeker in a drama of his own making. If Christianity was his latest plot twist, I had to see it.

I eventually rustled up a pal to go to the concert. John and I walked downtown from campus, and when we were a block away from the venue, I reached into my back pocket to pull out the envelope with the tickets. It was gone. I had checked it only a minute or so earlier. Shit. We retraced our steps, checking the sidewalk and the gutter. Nothing. “A message from God?” John joked. I was in no laughing mood.

We must have looked a bit frantic as we scurried back and forth searching for the envelope. And then a clean-cut fellow with short hair approached us. He was wearing a white dress shirt and black slacks. He could have been a Mormon missionary. “What are you looking for?” he asked. I explained our plight. “Oh,” he said. “Would you like these?” He held up a pair of tickets to the Dylan show. Oh, I figured, a scalper. “How much?” I asked, expecting to be fleeced. “Nothing,” he said. “You can just have them.” John and I looked at each other. “Really?” I asked. Yes, he replied. He handed me the tickets. “Thanks,” I said. As he started to walk away, I asked his name. “Tim,” he answered, displaying a beatific smile. “My name is Tim.”

My first thought: These were our tickets. He had found them and considered selling or using them but instead had decided to do the decent thing. Yet when I checked the pair, I saw the seats were in an orchestra row closer to the stage than my original tickets. This was weird. But John and I rolled with it. As we entered the theater, we spotted a line of school buses on the block. That, too, seemed odd.

The show began with a trio of gospel singers led by Regina McCrary. In full preacher mode, McCrary told a story about an old woman whose son had been injured in a war. The woman prayed to the Lord for guidance, and he told her to go to the train station. At the station, she had no money for a ticket. She prayed again, and the Lord told her to get on the train. She boarded the train. When the conductor saw she had no ticket, he kicked her off.

As McCrary recounted this tale, the band and the other backup singers began to accompany her, rising in volume and intensity, as in a church. Many in the audience began amen-ing. I realized those buses had imported hordes from churches and Christian schools. This was not a rock concert; it was a revival meeting. So with the old woman off the train, on her knees on the ground and supplicating before the Lord, the engineer fired up the engine. The pistons started pumping, the wheels started turning. But the train didn’t move. The train groaned as the wheels spun. And still, no forward motion. The conductor called to the woman to climb aboard. “But I don’t have no ticket,” she cried. “That’s okay,” the conductor proclaimed. “Jesus has your ticket! Jesus has a ticket for everyone!” The crowd went wild. The band broke into a gospel song. I turned to John and asked, “Did Jesus give us our tickets?” “No,” he said, “it was Tim.”

After a few more gospel warmups, Dylan appeared. He performed no songs other than his Jesus tunes. None of the classics. The band was great, Dylan’s vocals as strong and clear as ever, but disappointed and frustrated audience members left. Throughout the performance, Dylan was aggressively Christian, hurling fire and brimstone at the unsaved, instructing us to follow Jesus. He went into a long riff assailing those critics who were down on him for proselytizing. Here’s a version from a show a few nights later:

They say, “Bob, don’t preach so much.”…I know not too many people are gonna tell you about Jesus. I know Jackson Browne’s not gonna do it. He's running on empty. I know Bruce Springsteen’s not gonna do it, cause he's born to run, and he's still running. And Bob Seger’s not gonna do it, cause he's running against the wind. Somebody's got to do it, somebody's got to tell you you’re free! You're free because Jesus paid for ya! And that's the only reason you're free.

At some point, John asked whether we should join those fleeing the show. “Nah,” I said. “Who knows how long he’s going to be around?” (Dylan apparently drifted back to Judaism—watch him sing “Hava Nagila” in 1989—but more recently he might have re-drifted to Christianity.)

By the time the Providence concert finished, about half the audience was gone. But most of those who remained were glowing. John and I felt like strangers in a strange land. We had not been won over by Dylan, but we did wonder whether any of this had been a sign. As we left the theater, we looked mightily for Tim. Could he explain what had happened with our tickets? From where had they come? And who was he? We searched the lobby and the street outside the theater. Tim was nowhere to be found.

Here’s Bob Dylan performing “Slow Train Coming” from a show three weeks earlier:

Got a good Dylan story? Send it to me at thisland@motherjones.com.

Read Previous Issues of This Land

October 23, 2021: Joe Manchin, “bullshit,” and me; Dumbass Comment of the Week; the Mailbag; MoxieCam™; and more.

October 19, 2021: Who’s the most dangerous House Republican and why you might not know his name; why Squid Game hooks us; a new book on the history of xenophobia; Rock ’n’ Roll Flashback: a young and angry Elvis; and more.

October 16, 2021: Crunch time for Merrick Garland; Bannon, QAnon, and the Virginia governor race; Dumbass Comment of the Week; the Mailbag; MoxieCam™; and more.

October 12, 2021: How Donald Trump betrayed Trump country; one of the best books about survival and isolation ever; the disappointments of The Many Saints of Newark; and more.

October 9, 2021: Can Trump and the GOP be stopped from shoving 1/6 into a memory hole?; how you can join a This Land online salon; the world premiere of Jill Sobule’s new song, “You Better Not F*ck in Texas”; the Mailbag; MoxieCam™; and more.

October 5, 2021: The Democracy Crisis: Could this be Joe Biden’s big mistake?; kicking Pat Robertson on the way out; Skyfall vs. Casino Royale; a Velvet Underground tribute; and more.

October 2, 2021: How we almost got that big Lewandowski scoop; Dumbass Comment of the Week; MoxieCam™; and more.

September 29, 2021: Note to Greta Van Susteren: The road to hell is paved with both-siderism; the value of Netflix’s Worth; a crazy CIA story; and more.

September 25, 2021: What do Common, Leonard Bernstein, and Dwight Eisenhower have in common?; Dumbass Comment of the Week; the Mailbag; MoxieCam™; and more.

September 21, 2021: The Trump-Russia scandal denialists are taking another desperate stab at gaslighting you; Netflix’s The Chair nails the assignment; and more.

September 18, 2021: Hey Marco Rubio and Glenn Greenwald, this is the real problem with Milley, Trump, and nuclear weapons; Dumbass Comment of the Week (did Barack Obama really kill rock ’n’ roll with racial politics?); the Mailbag; MoxieCam™ (a new toy!); and more.

September 14, 2021: Will the new Bill-and-Monica television series spur a reappraisal of the Clinton scandal?; a stunning new Holocaust movie you can’t see—yet; one of the best articles ever about a family and its dog; and more.

September 11, 2021: How Trump’s conspiracy theories are killing people in West Virginia and elsewhere; more 9/11 reflections; Dumbass Comment of the Week (Special Confederacy Edition); a look at HBO’s very odd White Lotus; MoxieCam™; and more.

September 8, 2021: 9/11 plus 20: a remembrance and a thank-you; the chilling climate crisis warning in HBO’s Reminiscence; and more.

September 3, 2021: Texas shows how Trumpism has become fascistic vigilantism; Dumbass Comment of the Week; Rock ’n’ Roll Flashback (how I was popped by Iggy Pop); MoxieCam™; and more.